The Road to Kitgum

Early this Saturday morning I made my way down to Uchumi, meeting my ACTV co-workers with smiles and well-wishes. After a brief trip inside the store for breakfast food, we were on our way to Kitgum, a small town about two and half hours north of Gulu town.

Our trip was prompted by the death of the mother-in-law of ACTV’s resident doctor, Dr. Judith. It occurred a few days prior to my arrival, and on my first day the staff held a meeting where they collectively decided to drive together to attend the funeral to support Dr. Judith and her family. In a show of solidarity and sympathy for Dr. Judith, whom at that point I had never met, I decided to accompany the rest of the office on the trip.

With nine of us packed into the van I was fortunate enough to get a window seat and spent the large majority of the drive staring out at Uganda’s countryside, contentedly listening to the rapid-fire Acholi being laughed out by my companions. It was a pale, brightly lit morning. As we drove the distant hills slowly solidified only to be followed by more of the same, the continuous pattern of replacement making the road seem endless.

A few hours later we turned off the main road onto a thin driveway which took us to the site of the funeral. There were about four hundred people in attendance, all of whom were seated under nine tents shaped into in a large circle around the family, who were in turn seated across from the place where she was to be buried.

The ceremony was long by American standards, lasting about six hours from start to finish, and included a few unexpected events. The first of which was a series of live-spirited dances. I asked Gloria, my fellow co-worker, if dancing at funerals was common, and she informed me that it all depends on who has died. Since the woman lived a long, full life, they were celebrating her life in addition to mourning her passing. Gloria told me that when people die young it’s a different story. Funerals for the young are much more somber affairs, filled with much crying and grieving. However, for a life well-lived, it was only right that they celebrate her, for her life and for the impressive legacy she left behind.
The funeral was beautiful and appropriately reverent, the woman in question had had eleven highly successful children, many of whom got up and spoke a few words about their mother. There was prayer, there were hymns, there was enough food to feed a small army; all in all, the ceremony held my attention and my respect. It was a beautiful service for a woman who was obviously well loved, and I am grateful to have gotten the opportunity to attend.